Wild Flowers
by missrivets
Summary: Remember that time Dr. Whale gave Mary Margaret flowers? Wanna know why? 'Cause let me tell you, you don't give those kinds of flowers to someone who's only a 'one night stand.'


Sunlight beginning to peek in through the cracks in the blinds and warmed where it gently kissed his face, that was what finally woke him up from his blissful sleep. As he rolled out his shoulders to stretch his stiff muscles, his movements stirred up a sweet smell from his linens and with that one simple action, the entirety of his evening came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. 'Mary Margaret.' A slow smile lit Victor's face as he rolled over to pull the beauty who'd spent the night in his arms, back into his embrace but as his aqua eyes found only bare white sheets, the luxurious feeling of his morning began to slip away. Running his hand over the smooth fabric where she'd slept, he could still feel a tinge of warmth emanating from the mattress and that little fact bolstered his failing hope.

"Mary Margaret?" He called quietly into the emptiness of his apartment, disappointed to hear no response. With deft movements he extricated himself from his tangled sheets and pulled on a pair of loose sweat pants before making a quick exploration of his living space. She'd left her shoes by the door, next to his, when they'd come in last night. He knew, almost without looking that the little black flats would be missing. If there was one thing Victor Whale was absolutely familiar with, it was the specter of emptiness that took up the spaces in his home. He padded quietly into the kitchen, following the smell of fresh coffee that he'd been too distracted to notice before and found his favorite black mug situated next to a brand new pot of the delicious liquid. After pouring himself his required dose of caffeine, he couldn't help but smile as he took a sip, locating one of his white 'guest mugs' that Mary Margaret had used, and apparently washed before she'd left, beside the sink. With a final cursory glance around the kitchen, Victor made a point to look at the clock on his stove last and what he found there split his face into a wide grin. It was just before seven. Maybe if he hurried, he could catch her at her flat before she left for work.

Placing his mug carefully in the sink and flicking the switch on the coffee pot as he went, Victor practically sprinted back into his room. The Dr. Whale part of his brain argued that he needed to get a pair of slacks out and wear his favorite lavender shirt that made him look professional but still approachable. His Victor side told the Doctor to 'shut the hell up' as he went about yanking on a pair of well-broken-in jeans he usually only wore around the apartment and tugged a clean dove grey t-shirt over his head. The next few minutes were a bit of a blur as he flew through the most important parts of his bathroom routine; teeth brushing, deodorant, and trying to make his hair behave in a normal way, before he eventually gave up and hoped he would pass for 'casually disarrayed'. Socks, tennis shoes, wallet, phone, pager and keys. That was definitely the fastest he'd ever managed to leave his apartment in the morning on his day off.

"Mr. French!" Victor finally let himself slow to a walk after running around a corner and finding the local florist just moving to unlock the doors to his shop. Trying to draw air into his burning lungs and shout at the same time, not a good idea. The little store was only a few blocks down from his street and he internally berated himself for not remembering to go jogging more often, but that was something that could wait.

"Well, Dr. Whale, morning to you, sir. Goodness! What's your hurry, man?" The older gentleman looked a little concerned and waved his hands in a flustered manner towards Victor's chest as he drew nearer, still gasping a little bit.

"I need flowers, French. Pretty. Ones. F-fast, preferably." Mr. French looked as though he'd rather be sending Victor to get checked on before he'd sell him anything, but the younger man would not be swayed, waving off the florist's concern. "Please. I need to catch her before work." Shaking his head at Whale's antics, Mr. French finally unbolted the doors and gestured for Whale to follow him inside.

"The truck hasn't come yet this morning, but you can have your pick of anything in the store. Did you have anything in mind?" Victor shook his head, frantically looking through the selection of flora. Finally, when he was just about to give up, a thick, colorful bundle drew his attention back in one of the coolers. French followed his gaze and couldn't help but smile at his selection. "Ah, wildflowers. A good choice." A memory washed over Victor, unbidden. _His father had called them 'weeds' and scolded him for bringing them in the yard; swearing if they got into the flower beds and took root, he'd make Victor pull every root out by hand. His mother had loved when he'd come running over the gentle hills that had surrounded his parent's house, his arms full of all manner of different colors, shapes, and smells. She'd told him wild flowers were the best kind of flowers, because they grew wherever they wanted and came in as wide a variety as people did._ Victor thought the reason for his choice now, might have something to do with his mother, but he shook off the idea and paid French, carefully taking the bundle into his arms and thanking the florist before tearing out in a run again.

'Knock, knock, knock.' The run to her flat had a been a good distance longer than the trek from his apartment to the flower shop, but he'd made it in pretty good time, skidding to a stop outside her door at 7:15 on the nose. He'd knocked while his heart was still racing, and he was having a hard time determining if it was because of the marathon he'd just run or if it was at the prospect of seeing her again. As the minutes ticked away and no answer came from inside, he began to loose heart though. Maybe he had missed her? No matter, he'd catch up with her later. Or at least that's what he told himself as he propped the flower arrangement against her door and turned to make the return trip to his apartment, opting for a much more relaxed pace this time around. Just as he rounded the corner for the staircase, he paused to smile at the sight of the flowers on her doorstep. They were vibrant, strong, beautiful; and after clutching them to his chest for the jog over, he knew they held a gentle scent that reached out and soothed your soul.

_'Just like her.'_


End file.
